Numb
by warblingaway
Summary: If anything, Kurt learned that, no matter how upset you are, you shouldn't wander New York at 1 AM. Character Death. COMPLETE.


**Warnings: Character Death, blood, talked about violence, traumatic experiences and all that comes with death **

* * *

"Mmm," Kurt hummed into Blaine's mouth as he roughly shut the door behind them, his hands gripping Kurt's hips tightly as he pushed them against the wall.

They'd been together in New York for six months now – six glorious, love and lust induced months that Kurt wanted to relive in his mind forever.

"Love you," Blaine breathed, his lips slowly working down Kurt's jaw, "want you."

"Yeah," Kurt gasped in agreement, trying to nod his head and failing as Blaine's hand came up to clasp behind his neck and crash their lips together again. "Yes, please, god yes."

Blaine chuckled a little and moved his hands down Kurt's torso, skimming against his well-defined muscles as he continued to work lower, lower, until they came to rest on Kurt's thighs.

"Blaine," Kurt moaned as he hoisted one of his legs up and around his waist, "Blaine – Blaine I –" Kurt cut off as Blaine attached his lips to his again, his tongue instantly swirling around his own as he started to carry Kurt to the bedroom.

Kurt moaned again and tangled his fingers in Blaine's hair, his legs wrapped tightly around his waist and he knew that it would be so, _so _easy to just forget everything and let Blaine take him.

But he couldn't.

"Blaine, Blaine wait," Kurt murmured against Blaine's lips.

"No," Blaine replied, his voice desperate and rough. "I need you now."

"We have to talk about this."

"It can wait."

Kurt sighed in frustration and dropped his legs to the ground, still aimlessly running his fingers through Blaine's hair. "No," Kurt said, his voice soft as he looked into Blaine's eyes – his gorgeous, hazel eyes that were swimming with lust and – oh hell, no, Kurt had to stop. "It's important."

"Kurt," Blaine sighed, pulling himself away from Kurt's body and crossing his arms across his chest.

"Blaine."

"It doesn't matter," Blaine insisted, creasing his forehead.

"Yes, it _does."_

"Kurt, come on –"

"No, _you _come on, Blaine!" Kurt yelled, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. He didn't feel like he'd been about ready to fuck Blaine three minutes ago, and he honestly didn't know how he'd felt like that at _all _now that all these thoughts were back in his head. "You can't just _lie _to me about something like that!"

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal!"

Kurt groaned again and sat down on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, next time you hear that getting an internship in L.A. your freshman year of college isn't a big deal, let me know."

"Kurt –"

"No, Blaine," Kurt balled his fists around clumps of the comforter as he sighed. "It's a big deal. It's something we need to _talk _about."

"I wasn't even going to accept it!"

"You can't just not accept something like that for me!" Kurt yelled. "Do you know how much I'd regret that for the rest of my life? How much _you'd _regret that? And then I'd feel like shit for holding you back and you'd resent me and we'd crumble."

Blaine scoffed and rolled his eyes as he started pacing the room. "I don't want to leave New York."

"You aren't going to get that kind of opportunity here, though," Kurt said, his voice quieting a little. "And you just gave that up without even talking to me about it."

"Kurt –"

"I just want what's best for your future."

"You _are _my future," Blaine said, and Kurt could see the sincerity in his eyes. "God Kurt, I haven't even called them back yet."

Kurt swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. They hadn't fought like this yet, not since they'd been in New York together. He willed the tears to stay in his eyes, knowing they would betray him and the whole argument would crumble.

"But you were going to," Kurt argued. "You were going to tell them no."

"Obviously."

Kurt didn't respond, instead turning his head to the side and biting his lip and staring at the mirror on the wall.

"I know you would have stayed here," Blaine whispered after a few moments of silence. "I know that New York is your home. You _belong _here, Kurt. And if I took that offer – we'd be done. I'd be in L.A., and I'd probably stay there."

Kurt whimpered a little before standing up and grabbing his keys. "I know that your mind is made up and that nothing I say will convince you," he said as he walked out of the bedroom, feeling Blaine on his heels, following him. "Just please, _please _make sure you aren't doing anything you're going to regret. I don't want your biggest regret in life to be because of me."

"Leaving you would be my biggest regret in life."

Kurt sighed and turned as he opened the door, reaching out and squeezing Blaine's hand. "You think that now," he murmured. "But who knows what you'll think in the future."

Blaine didn't say anything. He just stood there, Kurt watching as his eyes welled with tears. He quickly looked away before he could do anything that would make him stay instead of giving Blaine time to think.

"Please, Blaine," Kurt whispered as he slowly shut the door behind him. "Just think about it. For me."

* * *

Kurt walked around Central Park for what felt like hours, but was probably closer to around 40 minutes. He didn't understand why Blaine wasn't even willing to talk to him about it. How did he know Kurt wouldn't leave for him? How was he so certain that choosing Kurt over that amazing opportunity was the right thing?

Kurt groaned and sat down on one of the benches, dropping his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes. They never fought like this before – sure, there were the whole Chandler and Sebastian fiascos, but this was something that was completely _them _with no outside interference.

He loved Blaine. More than he ever thought he could love someone. And he'd do anything for him.

_Would you leave New York for him?_

The question swarmed in Kurt's mind for a whole of two seconds before he was sure of his answer.

_Yes._

He could easily transfer to a college in L.A. They didn't have many belongings in their little apartment to begin with, so they wouldn't have many moving expenses.

Kurt sighed again, because it just made the whole situation even _worse. _If Blaine would have just _asked _him, Kurt could have realized then that he was willing to move for Blaine.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out to see a text from Blaine.

_12:53 AM  
Where are you?_

Kurt quickly replied that he was in Central Park.

_12:57 AM  
It's really late, Kurt. Please come home._

12:58 AM  
I just need a little more time. I'll be home soon. I promise.

_1:02 AM  
I've made up my mind._

1:04 AM  
I have something really important to tell you before you do anything rash, Blaine.

Kurt sighed as he waited for Blaine to reply. He knew that he really shouldn't be out in New York at this time, but he didn't know where else he could go so that he could just _think._

What if Blaine still didn't want to go? What if he didn't let Kurt go with him?

God, it was all such a mess.

_1:07 AM  
I'm coming to find you._

No, he was going to tell Blaine and Blaine was going to be thrilled, and they were going to move to L.A. and everything was going to be perfect.

1:11 AM  
No, it's late, Blaine. I'm coming home now.

_1:13 AM  
Too late ;) I'm already on my way. We could use a nice night in Central Park, anyway._

Kurt sighed and smiled at the text, hoping that it was still a sign that they could work things out and that this wouldn't break them forever.

_1:17 AM  
I love you. Always._

Kurt smiled at the words that buzzed through a few minutes after the previous. Yes, they'd hit a bit of a rough spot, but they'd make it through. They had to.

1:20 AM  
I love you, too.

1:23 AM  
Meet me at that 24/7 coffee shop on the corner?

Kurt sent the texts and then sat and waited for Blaine's response.

He could practically see the look on Blaine's face when he told him what he was planning. Blaine would smile and no doubt question him relentlessly about his decision, but Kurt could feel it in his gut that it was the right thing to do.

Because making Blaine happy? To see that look on his face? It was all Kurt ever wanted in life.

Kurt frowned as he glanced at his phone and noticed that there was still no response from Blaine.

Standing up and brushing off his pants, Kurt started towards the coffee shop he was talking about, thinking that maybe Blaine just went and forgot to respond. When he reached it, he glanced in the window and felt his heart constrict in his chest at how empty the place was.

1:39 AM  
Where are you?

1:43 AM  
Blaine, I'm worried.

He was about to send off another one when he heard someone yelling from across the street. He peered around a parked car and squinted to see a woman – probably in her mid-twenties – hovering over something on the ground.

"Oh god," she was yelling. "Oh god, someone help! Call an ambulance, oh my god!"

Kurt started to panic as he quickly made sure there were no incoming cars before darting across the street, phone in hand as he started to dial 911.

_No, Blaine's fine, _Kurt kept chanting himself as he neared the end of the street. _He's fine, he's fine, he's fine he's fine he'sfinehe'sfinehe'sfinehe's – _

_Oh god._

Kurt felt like all of the air had rushed out of him, like his heart had been shredded, his lungs ripped out of his body, his brain put to a halt.

The girl's screams faded as a whooshing sound formed in Kurt's ears.

_Nonononon please nonono it's not god no please_

He shoved his phone into the girl's hand as he dropped down to his knees – which was happening whether he actually wanted it to or not, since his knees were giving out on him anyway.

"They're on the phone already," he rasped to the girl, still unable to catch his breath. "Please just – tell them where we are and tell them to hurry."

She nodded and did as Kurt asked, but he didn't hear a word of it.

He was too focused on the broken figure on the ground.

"Blaine," he whispered, his voice broken as tears began to stream out of his eyes. "Oh god, oh god." He took in his form – his outstretched arm holding his phone, his other curled in onto his stomach in what looked like an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Kurt gagged when he saw it. A pool of blood forming in Blaine's chest and stomach, slowly seeping through his shirt and onto the sidewalk.

"Blaine," Kurt said, his hands moving of his own accord as he ripped his jacket off and bundled it up, pressing it to Blaine's wound.

_His gunshot wound._

"Blaine, Blaine please," Kurt whispered, his voice frantic and pitchy. "Oh god, how long?" He asked the girl.

"They – they said not long," she stammered, her eyes wide as she watched the two. "Do – do you k-know him?"

"He's my boyfriend," Kurt said, "Oh my god, Blaine, please."

Kurt was full on hysterical now as he tried to stop the bleeding, his hands becoming stained with Blaine's blood.

"Please please please please," he chanted to Blaine as he removed one hand to brush the curls out of Blaine's face. "Please, Blaine, oh god, please."

As Kurt heard the sirens, he realized that this is what it felt like to have your whole world fall apart.

* * *

_We're sorry, Mr. Hummel. There was nothing we could do. He was dead before we even got there._

* * *

Kurt was numb, that was the only way to explain it.

It'd been 3 days of numb. Once the awful, terrible hysterics had died off, that's all it was.

Numb.

The girl – he still didn't know her name – came to the hospital with him. She comforted him and just stayed with him.

Burt and Carole came into town when they heard, dragging Kurt out of the apartment – the apartment that smelled like Blaine and that had Blaine's things and that Blaine had lived in with him – and forced him to stay in a hotel, claiming that it wasn't good for him to be around all those reminders right now.

He didn't care.

He didn't want to care.

He _couldn't _care.

Blaine had his heart. And now Blaine was gone.

The police came that afternoon, asking if he'd seen the shooter, if Blaine had any enemies, what they were doing out so late.

And, when that happened, Kurt had broken down again.

Because he hadn't even gotten to tell Blaine his plan – that he was going to move to L.A. with him, that they were going to be happy and together and even more in love.

He gave them the girl's number, claiming that she had seen more than he had. He told them that Blaine didn't have any enemies – everyone loved Blaine.

Everyone.

* * *

The funeral was a week later. Since the day the police came to ask him questions, Kurt hasn't spoken. He hasn't said anything. He only nodded and shook his head, or made small noises of affirmation.

And he cried.

He would lock himself in the hotel bedroom and sob into the pillow for hours, until his throat was raw and his eyes burned, until Carole came in and pried the pillow away from him and wrapped him in her arms, shushing him and murmuring nonsensical comfort words into his ear.

He knew that his dad and Carole had both lived through this, but this was so much worse.

Because he'd fought with Blaine before it happened. Because they hadn't really reconciled. Because Kurt had apparently watched him die, had seen his dead body on the ground. Because Blaine was killed for no reason, he didn't deserve to die, he didn't deserve a violent death, he was hardly 19 years old.

The day of the funeral, they brought Kurt back to the apartment so he could get Blaine's nicest suit. They'd settled for an open casket at the funeral, Burt knowing that Kurt wanted to see Blaine one last time, in a way that wasn't as gruesome.

Kurt silently went through the apartment and to their closet, not looking at any of the pictures, trying not to smell the smell that was so very _Blaine._

He reached out and grabbed the hanger the suit was on, cursing as one of the shoulders slipped off and the suit crumpled to the ground.

Bending over to pick it up, Kurt noticed something fall out of one of the pockets.

He reached down again and picked the box up with shaky hands.

The small, black, velvet box.

And everything was numb again.

Wordlessly, Kurt walked out into the living room, his eyes wide and teary as he looked up at the shocked faces of Carole and his dad.

"Oh, honey," Carole murmured, tears shining in her own eyes. She glanced over at Burt, an obvious question in her eyes, Kurt watching as she choked back a sob when he nodded.

Kurt slowly opened the box, biting on his bottom lip as the tears began to pour down his cheeks. Inside was a thin silver band. It was nothing fancy, but it was clearly carefully picked out and very, very _Kurt._

Kurt looked at his dad then, at his almost pained expression, and spoke for the first time in a week. "You knew about this?"

Burt hesitated before nodding once, Kurt watching as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"I'm sorry," Burt said, slowly walking over and wrapping a trembling Kurt in his arms. "I didn't know – I didn't think he'd gotten a ring yet."

Kurt remained silent as he slowly slipped the ring onto his finger.

* * *

_Mr. Hummel, we talked to the girl. She could identify the shooter, and we've got all men looking for him now. He was trying to rape her, Mr. Hummel. Blaine apparently walked by and saw, and when he tried to pry him off of her, she said the gun fell out of the man's jacket. Blaine tried to wrestle it away, but he wasn't fast enough. We're so sorry for your loss, but we can assure you that he will be caught and punished._

* * *

A year later, and Kurt still has the ring on his finger.

He stands next to Blaine's grave as he places a bouquet of red and yellow flowers down – just like the ones he gave Blaine in high school.

_Blaine Wyatt Anderson  
Loving Son and Brother  
So Why Don't We Go, Somewhere Only We Know_

The Andersons had let Kurt choose what would be inscribed, wanting to have representation on the tombstone since he'd been such a huge part of Blaine's life.

He glances at his phone, smiling a little at what has been his background for the past year.

It was simple, really. It wasn't anything special to an outsider.

Just a simple screenshot of the last text he received from Blaine.

_From Blaine Anderson  
1:17 AM  
I love you. Always._

* * *

**I'm sorry but I have kill Blaine syndrome and sad Kurt syndrome**_  
_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

**PLEASE BE NICE AND DON'T MURDER ME**


End file.
